The Beautiful Family
by PreTwistedLemon
Summary: A NarcissaLucius story. A story of love, of contempt, of tears, of mixed feelings of when love is at it's best and worst.


Nothing could have driven her past this point. Nothing but him, nothing but the man who used to love her. That man was gone now, and she had to accept that horrible truth that he wore a mask that he had devised to keep the family name intact. She knew that just by looking in the portrait they had had painted one year ago. The thought of it brought tears to her eyes. Her little boy, their boy, was as cold as ice and was already a miniature of his father at age five.

His father, her husband, used to be a man who would comfort her when she was sad, kiss her because he loved her, and caress her with his gentle touch. Now she flinched whenever she saw him, refused to touch his left arm where it was. The Dark Mark; the mark that had changed him.

He was rough and conceited. He was no longer that man that had bent down that night and slipped the beautiful diamond ring onto her finger. He was no longer the one who had almost cried when she had said yes. Now, all he thought about was the Dark Lord, all he thought about was gold.

The front door slammed and she stood up quickly, brushing the tears off her porcelain face and smoothing out her robes. A tall and robust man strode into the room. The silver-blonde locks of his hair stood out against the deep green robes he was wearing, and his grey eyes flashed against his pallid, lined face.

"What is this?" He hissed.

She looked down in confusion as she tried to mask her fear. He waved a book in front of her face and she paled considerably; a feat hard to do, since she was already paper white.

"I-I was reading it to him." She stuttered. She was trembling and he could tell it.

"This is a weak book and I don't want my son to become weak." He shouted.

She tried being sweet, easing herself into his arms and gently planting a kiss on his finely shaped lips. Her fingers ran over the mark on his arm and she flinched. He pushed her away and her eyes welled.

"He's not going to become a Death Eater yet." She cried.

His eyes narrowed and he reached out a hand. With a cry of pain, she felt his hand slap against her cheek, leaving a bright red mark. He grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her against the wall so her head banged against it. The tears quivered on her eyelashes.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me. He will become what I want," He sneered. "Do you understand?"

She didn't move. He pressed her harder against the wall.

"I said, do you understand?"

She nodded and he let her go. As she closed her eyes a solitary tear ran down her bruised cheek. _Slap!_ He slapped her again and she opened her eyes, tears now pouring down.

"This is it. I can't take anymore." She sobbed.

A little boy ran into the room and clutched as his mother's leg. She scooped him up and he looked at her in wonder.

"Mummy, don't cry," The little boy sniffled. She picked up a tiny bag she always had packed and started to walk out the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" He snarled from behind her, lunging at her. She screamed and the boy started to cry in her arms. She ran outside with him in pursuit, into the rainstorm and apparated as soon as she was outside of the immense house.

--

She landed hard in front of an ugly, dilapidated old brick house with dark black curtains. It was pitch black outside and a broken streetlamp shone on her as she ran up the steps, rain drenching her and the little boy who was still sobbing helplessly in her arms. She knocked on the black and forbidding door and it opened a crack. The person inside took one glance at the soaked woman and her sobbing son and opened the door, ushering them in.

She didn't even say anything. She put down the child on the ratty couch, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and wrapped her arms around the man's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her closely and stroked her long blonde hair, breathing slowly. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, could feel her body shaking against his. His curtain of greasy black hair fell over hers, mingling the two colours together. He didn't need to ask what had happened; he already knew.

--

The woman opened the door of her mansion with the sleeping child in her arms. Gently tip-toeing to her bedroom, she laid the disheveled youngster down on his enormous bed, gently planting a kiss on his pale forehead and smoothing out the pale blond locks that were strewn across it. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the room, shut off the light and closed the door.

It was time to face him.

She was in no condition to look at anyone, let alone her own aristocratic husband. Her hair was still drying and was stringy, her blue eyes were ringed with red from crying and her face was slightly blotchy. Her beautiful green robes were wet, dirty and ripped in some places.

But she still looked beautiful, no matter what. Because she had been taught to do that. To always look beautiful, no matter what she felt like on the inside. To hide her emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes as she started to walk through the stone halls. She brushed them away and stopped when she got to the magnificent oak door that led into her bedroom. Their bedroom. The place where countless things had been done, where their love was at it's best…

She pushed open the door softly. He was sitting on the side of the bed, head in hands, a picture of the two of them facing him. She felt love and lust run through her body, exonerating the fear and bringing in the pity. Her footsteps were soft on the plush red carpet but he looked up. She stopped, fear coming back and flooding her soul. He stood up and walked up to her, and, to her surprise, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed her to his lean body. She was so surprised, she stood like a board for a moment. Sense flooded back into her brain and she buried her head into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. Tears started to pour down her face again and her body shook in his protective grasp. He pressed his face into her hair and gently kissed the top of her head.

She tilted her head up slightly and saw tears swimming in his grey eyes, his lined face full of remorse and wanting. She gently put a delicate hand on his cheek and kissed him. When they broke off softly, her lips formed three words that she hadn't said in so long.

The door creaked open and the couple whipped around.

"Mummy?" A tiny voice questioned. "Daddy?"

The little boy peeked around the door, clutching a ragged blanket and one of his thumbs stuck in his mouth. His blond hair, like both of his parents', was tousled over his father's grey eyes.

She drew away from him and picked up the little boy. Her husband scowled a bit, but his scowl disappeared when she returned to the safety of his arms, bearing the little boy with her. She snuggled into his chest again, the little boy hidden in the safety of her own shoulder. He looked down at his family and she could see pride and love tightening his throat. She grazed her lips over the rough stubble on his cheek. He looked down directly at her.

"I love you." He whispered softly. Her throat tightened.

"I love you too." She murmured, leaning in for another kiss.


End file.
